


In His Clothes

by highbrassduo



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, I have a theory..., Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, One Shot, Romance, Slow Burn, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers, The Last Jedi - Freeform, tlj - Freeform, where exactly DID Rey get her new clothes?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13786851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highbrassduo/pseuds/highbrassduo
Summary: This is me giving voice to the head cannons in which Rey's new outfit when she ships herself to Ben is made up of his old clothes that were still tucked away on the Millennium Falcon. Enjoy!





	In His Clothes

Rey tore through the Millennium Falcon’s storage compartments, hoping for something, anything, that wasn’t drenched and completely see-through. 

She was going to Ben Solo. Was going to show up at his front door, hope the stormtroopers didn’t kill her before she could get to him, and beg Ben to come back to the light.

What the _kriff_ did a girl wear on such a vital mission?

As much as she loved the rain, she looked—and felt—like a sopping wet porg, minus the cuteness. It had been embarrassing enough begging Chewie to take her into the heart of the First Order, to his wayward sort-of-nephew, with her arms covering her chest, hair dripping into her face, and rain still streaming down her back. The Wookiee had protested—loudly—but when she pleaded, he'd relented and pointed her in the direction of some old storage compartments.

Now she saw why. Neatly folded tunics in blacks and grays were stacked in precise, yet dusty piles. Tucked beside them, she found thick leather belts and swaths of gauzy fabric, not unlike what she’d seen Luke wear under his robes. She unfolded the tunic resting atop the others and held it out. The black garment was enormous, far too large for her frame, with long, pleated sleeves and paneling that, when she ran her fingers over the soft, worn material sent a strange sense of calm washing over her. She let her eyes drift closed, overwhelmed by the urge to bury her face in the fabric.

Who had it belonged to? 

Chewie powered up the Falcon and called out a warning to hold on, jarring Rey back to reality. Right. There was no time for cuddling with some random stranger’s old tunic. 

She dashed into the fresher and stripped out of her wet upper garments, leaving her poor soaked breast band and arm wraps in place. The old tunic slid easily over her head…and immediately engulfed her much-smaller frame. A laugh bubbled up from her throat when she caught sight of herself in the reflective surface that served as the Falcon’s lone mirror. No, this certainly wouldn’t work. Ben would take one look at her and fall over laughing. 

If he was happy to see her at all.

No. She couldn’t let herself think like that. Standing up to Luke had to be done. If the old Jedi wasn’t willing to put an end to this war, Ben Solo was their only hope. She’d make Ben see. It was the only way.

She pulled the immense amount of fabric back over her head, set it on the counter, and eyed the garment. Maybe if she removed the sleeves, then repurposed one of the large leather belts, wrapped some of the fabric over the top to hold everything in place… 

She quickly made the adjustments, tugged everything back on, and turned this way and that, assessing the end result in the mirror. It’d wound up more a dress than a tunic, but at least she was warm and dry. The same sense of calm she’d felt when she touched the fabric clung to her skin, whispering words of comfort and resolve. 

_You can do this, Rey,_ the whispers said. _You can bring Ben Solo back._

She took a deep, centering breath. She’d seen her future with Ben. Seen the love they would one day share. The twins—a son and daughter, both so strong with the Force—they’d have together. There was no way to know if he’d seen the same thing, so for now she had to believe enough for both of them. The galaxy was counting on her.

On _them._

Serviceable clothing in place, she looked to the rest of her body. Anyone who wore a tunic of this size wouldn’t have boots she could wear, so hers would have to dry on their own. But _kriff,_ her hair was a disaster. The First Order would shoot her on site, assuming she was a wretch come to beg for shelter. It took her a minute to comb out the rain-soaked tangles and gather some of it into a band at the back of her head.

Her pale, waterlogged complexion wasn't something she’d be able to fix on her own. She dug through her pack and pulled out a small vial of beauty mist she’d scavenged from a disabled transport ship on Jakku. It had belonged to a woman of means and was way too frivolous for Rey to haul around with her, but she'd kept it anyway. That she owned such a ridiculous thing had made her smile on more than one lonely night. She’d loved taking out the vial, watching the cool pink liquid reflect the stars twinkling above her AT-AT. 

She sprayed some on, her eyes going wide at the immediate difference…and then was instantly racked by self-consciousness. 

Would Ben like what he saw? 

_Kriff,_ she was just as ridiculous as the mist.

And very, very nervous.

_Bring me back, Rey. Please._

The low, rumbling whisper startled her, but then Chewie bellowed at her from the cockpit. They were getting close.

Her hands shaking, she returned the vial to its place, hurried back to the cargo hold, and slid her pack into the lone storage compartment she’d claimed as her own. 

“As soon as I launch,” she said to Chewie, climbing into the escape pod, “you jump back out of range. Stay there until you get my signal for where to rendezvous.”

Chewie voiced an acknowledgment.

“If you see Finn before I do, tell him…”

_I’ll always care about him, no matter how much of a betrayal he’ll think this is._

Chewie spouted off something far more diplomatic. It was probably for the best. The last thing she needed was for the whole of the Resistance to know she’d fallen in love with Kylo Ren.

“Yeah, perfect. Tell him that.”

She clutched Skywalker's lightsaber to her chest as the pod closed over her, sealing her inside.

_Hold on, Ben. I'm coming..._


End file.
